The Survivors
by Yippie
Summary: A character who died in the books survived. What happened as a result? Cute one-shot about two characters pursing their dreams in light after surviving the Battle of Hogwarts


George put the box down in the center of the room and took a moment to survey the room around him. The shelves were all empty now and the light bulb flickered overhead—he had been meaning to change it. Two broomsticks, one with a bit of chain still attached to it hung on the wall opposite from the door. One year had passed since the battle of Hogwarts, and business at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes had been fantastic. People felt safe being outside again and foot traffic through Diagon Alley had increased considerably. A steam of Hogwarts students had come in to buy Unlocatable Farts and Flying Erasers to erase the board as their professors wrote. Some of them asked George's autograph, which was always awkward. He most liked the first years, who were often too shy to come up to him and tried to watch discretely from a distance. George would slip them a gizmo or gadget when they thought he was restocking shelves and whisper, "tell Peeves I said hello."

Despite the good business however, this room was empty. A year ago it had held Shiving Snackboxes, Portal Swamps, and Wildfire Whiz-bangs—some of his and Fred's earliest inventions from their own time at Hogwarts. They'd sold better than anything else in the store, in a month enough had been sold to pay the Diagon Alley rent for a year. George had never restocked though. It was too hard to imagine the days he sat with his brother in the Gryffindor common room fermenting disorder and avoiding Hermione's ire. Hermione, now grown and less rigid after the war, had come by a few months ago and offered to replenish his stock himself—she was certainly skilled enough. George refused, some memories were better left unchanged. The shelves eventually emptied completely, with the last Fever Fudge being sold to a pimply fifth year who didn't look at all concerned about his O.W.L.s. George made the decision to rent the space out. As it happened, Harry had a tenant in mind. In thanks for Harry's start up loan, George had insisted on not charging rent for the space.

Behind George he heard the click of a cane on the tile floor. He turned around and stepped aside to avoid another box that was being levitated over his head. The clicking of the cane stopped as the box was lowered atop the one George had just put down. George sat on a low shelf, and turned to look at his companion.

The house elf was bent over and still leaning heavily on his cane, obviously still in some degree of pain. "He was only released from St. Mungo's three months ago," Harry had said, "he spent a bunch of time in a coma—make sure he doesn't overexert himself." Despite the elves frail physical condition, he bore a wide smile revealing all of his teeth, and his ears were perked up and forward. George suspected if he could have launched himself atop the boxes he would have. His torso was clad in a white button down with a blue vest, perhaps one made for a human toddler participating in a wedding. Above this he wore a blue suit coat. George happened to know his mother had made the coat custom, he remembered her working on her old foot powered sewing machine, fussing with the fit just as she had with her own children's clothing. The elf completed his ensemble with a pair of blue slacks and black leather shoes. A tie with the faces of the golden trio hung halfway to his knees and an old-fashioned top hat sat on his head.

"How are you Dobby?" George asked, but the elf didn't answer immediately. He stood as if transfixed, tears forming in his eyes. George reflected on their first meeting a month before. He had described the available space to the elf who had accepted almost immediately. Feeling awkward about ending a meeting so quickly, George had asked why he wanted to leave his job in the Hogwarts kitchen.

"Dobby loves Hogwarts sir," the elf had said, "But all Dobby's friends are gone. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger and your brother Weasley have graduated Sir and Dumbledore is not there sir. Dobby loves Headmistress McGonagall and the Other house elves, but Dobby is a free elf. Dobby can come and go wherever he wants, sir and Dobby wants to explore the world sir."

Today though, the elf was uncharacteristically silent. George wondered whether he should go grab another box or start unpacking—to give the elf a moment to himself. Eventually Dobby answered, "Dobby loves it sir. Dobby will come here every day sir even on Christmas!" George smiled, he had learned long ago not to try to curb the elf's enthusiasm. He bent down to open the box in front of him and found a collection of socks in all sizes—some small enough for elves and some large enough for giants. He even spotted a bag of sox labelled for dragons—but he didn't ask. George started placing the socks on a nearby shelf.

"Dobby's sign should arrive today," the elf said, still looking like he would like to be bouncing up and down "Will Master George help Dobby put it up?"

"Sure Dobby—I can help with the sign. I can get those broomsticks off the wall is you like as well."

Dobby looked like he had been slapped, "No—Master George mustn't move the brooms! Dobby remembers when you and Master Fred used those brooms to banish Umbridge. Dobby was supposed to be in the kitchen, but Dobby wanted to watch the fireworks. Dobby wants everybody who shops at Dobby's store to remember when Master's Fred and George flew out of Hogwarts.

George didn't respond. His chest felt full, and he was quietly glad his brother was remembered. Instead he opened the second box and started stacking school robes. Shortly there was a knock on the door. The clicking of the cane resumed as Dobby made his way over, thanked the delivery man and levitated the box indoors. George stood up and watched the elf open the long flat box. Inside was a large purple wooden sign. Written on it in yellow font was "Daper Dobby's Fine Clothing and Uniforms." A yellow sock with purple polka dots was placed on the right side of the text. Dobby went silent again as he observed the sign, his body almost vibrating. Eventually George put a hand on his shoulder and the elf looked up. Silently, together, they levitated the sign outside the door and up to the top of the doorway. As the elf levitated it in place, the wizard cast a spell to hammer it in. Feeling inspired, he added a little charm to make it glow after dark. Then the two went back inside to finish unpacking.

In the years to come, Dobby's shop would be very successful, although the dragon and giant socks never sold particularly well. Madam Malkin eventually retired and closed down her shop, leaving the elf with to fit and tailor the wardrobes of all the Hogwarts first years. The day came that Harry brought his own son to shop for school robes and Dobby nearly fell over himself in excitement. Later, he hung a large picture of the three of them near the two broomsticks, which he had never taken down. George never accepted rent, no matter how many times the elf offered. Eventually an anonymous scholarship was set up in Fred's name for Hogwarts students imagining careers outside the standard N.E.W.T. route. Everybody assumed George had funded it, and neither he nor Dobby ever said otherwise.


End file.
